


ARC I

by InvertedPhantasmagoria



Series: What a Difference You Can Make [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, Crying, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Ghoul Biology, Ghoul Instincts, Headcanon, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kagune, Massage, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Moral Dilemmas, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Manipulation, Psychological Trauma, Purring Ghouls, Reader does their best, Reader-Insert, Redemption, Slow Burn, Trauma, Trust Issues, Xeno, excessive headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvertedPhantasmagoria/pseuds/InvertedPhantasmagoria
Summary: What if the way ghouls are treated in Japan wasn't the norm? An Au fic in which ghouls are supposed to have rights, and one organization is set on delivering them. Following a Ghoul Services worker who's brand-new in Japan, the story explores what could change if someone was inserted right into the midst of the harsh world of ghouls. Reader-insert, with a lot of canon-divergence and a focus on fixing what's been wronged, all while fighting not to sink to the level of the world around you.. . .Tokyo Ghoul AU fic. Please read the series in order.
Relationships: Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise/Reader
Series: What a Difference You Can Make [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552204
Comments: 44
Kudos: 256





	1. The melancholy of what lies ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello everyone! I'm finally getting this fic organized, and that happened to involve breaking things up a bit. Everything is still exactly how I planned, just scattered into a few different parts o3o
> 
> That said, this is where the _meat_ of the story starts. I warned in the last chapter that things were going to get a lot more intense from here on out, and I meant it. The intro arc is over, and Reader's real struggles start now. This chapter is actually pretty tame, but do expect things to get worse as I go. Now that the plot has been mostly sorted out, I hope everyone is excited to see what I have in store!! As usual, I love all comments dearly, and the people who send them to me are super appreciated. 
> 
> A link to my tumblr and my writing Discord are below, and hopefully, I'll be updating this story again soon!
> 
> invertedphantasmagoria.tumblr.com
> 
> https://discord.gg/YxUxgWJ

The ghoul on your floor is built like a cross between a tank and a semi-truck. He’s _huge,_ with ugly, coarse features and a mess of white-blonde hair that looks downright bleached. He’s covered in a mass of red kagune spiraling over his head, covering his face, in his mouth and encasing his arm like a gauntlet of twisting crimson flesh. 

It’s a kakuja. A _kakuja,_ real and alive and in your living room. You’ve been trained on what to do with them, sure, but it’s not like Ghoul Services had ready access to ones for its trainees to practice with. 

Ken stays standing, visibly tense. He’s frowning like he wants to kill something, which is a very new look on the boy you’ve known so far. The white hair is worrying you on a thousand levels– as if the rest of his everything isn’t. There’s a set to his features that you’ve never seen before, something dark and awful and way too close to scared. He’s hovering, not looking away from the ghoul on the floor for a second, glaring at the thing like he plans to put a kagune through its middle as soon as it moves. 

“Okay, where am I supposed to start?” you choke out, looking to Ken like you’re really, really hoping he can tell you what to do.

“That’s what you’re supposed to know,” he replies, looking tense and wild. “You’re the one I thought could fix this. You’re the one who _can._ If– If you can’t, then I’ll just have to kill him before he can fight back–”

“No! No killing. I can fix it. I can try,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel. This ghoul is obviously very, very dangerous. This is the first time you’ve looked at one so strong. But, even as scared as you are, not solving this problem means that someone is going to die. 

Just as you’re clenching your fists and getting ready to kneel down, the ghoul on the floor starts to move. He twitches all over, kagune squirming. He makes a low, pained noise, and then, what you can see of his eyes snap open. Instantly, Ken’s whole body goes tight. He’s ready to kill it. Ken, the soft-hearted person you’ve known, is ready to kill someone. 

“Wh-Where...” the ghoul starts, voice slurred and pained. “Wh-Where am... I...?” His blacked-out eyes flicker around the room, taking in the fact that he’s definitely not anywhere he recognizes. “Co– N-No... I can’t– I c-can’t... be there...” His tone quickly goes terror-stricken. 

As soon as the words are out, the ghoul _whimpers._ You don’t know whether it’s from pain, fear, or both. His big body tries to curl in on itself, but his injuries mean he doesn’t get far. He keeps making soft, pained little noises, shaking like a leaf and mumbling about how he can’t be back there, about how he can’t be there again. You don’t know where _there_ is, and you’re pretty damn sure you don’t want to. You’re out of your league by a longshot. This is a mess on a thousand horrible levels. 

“No,” Ken says sharply. “You’re not there, but you could be somewhere worse if you decide to act out. Stay on the floor and stay still, or I’ll kill you before you have time to so much as breathe wrong.”

The ghoul heaves a terrified breath at that, whining through his teeth and the kagune clogging his mouth. You kind of want to hit Ken. 

“We are _not_ threatening him,” you hiss. “That will do, like, the exact opposite of good. So no threatening. Please.”

“You don’t get anything good out of this one. It’s either fear or anger, and I’d much rather keep that at fear. It’s safer if he knows I could kill him. If he knows that I will. He’ll behave for you if he’s scared.” Ken looks down at the ghoul. His voice is cold and dead. His eyes are way too blank. You don’t know whether you’re more scared of that or the monster-ghoul. 

“Okay. Okay. Just... watch him for a minute. His injuries are bad, so he needs to eat. I can’t work on something that bloody, okay? Please don’t kill him. I’ll be right back, and I promise I can fix this somehow.”

Ken nods, and you scurry upstairs to retrieve a few chunks of meat from the emergency fridge. Just a few. You believe Ken that this ghoul is very, very dangerous, so giving him just enough to heal– not enough to recover much strength– is probably a wise decision. 

By the time you get back downstairs, the ghoul has returned to whimpering. Ken is standing over him with a vicious glare. The ghoul has also given up on trying to curl up; instead laying on his stomach, all spread out and flat in a position that you know can’t feel very safe. You glance at Ken, then kneel down. You have to do this. You have to be ready to fix things. No matter what, you have to do your job and make things right. 

“Here,” you tell him, setting a piece of meat on the floor just a bit in front of the ghoul. “It’s food, and it’s safe. I can’t give you very much, but you can get yourself healed, okay? You’ll feel a lot better when everything doesn’t hurt so badly.” You try to smile. Your behavior is important. You have to sound confident and reassuring, like you can solve anything. 

“M-Meat... F-Food... Heal, I c-can... heal–” He trails off way too many times, voice tripping over the words like something in his head has been shaken loose. You’re so, so worried about this– about all of it. 

The ghoul raises one shaky hand, pulling the meat towards his mouth. He eats like a starving dog, swallowing the flesh down so quickly you’re almost afraid he’ll choke. When the first piece is gone, you press another one into his hand, then another. The ghoul looks at you like you’re a god. 

He’ll heal quickly like this. Already, you can see his flesh starting to knit back together. The ghoul shakes and shakes, closing his eyes like he thinks you’ll stab through him at any second. You get the feeling someone’s done something very similar before, which is a train of thought that you really don’t want to follow. The ghoul’s big fingers curl in, digging into his palms as his breathing spikes. He keeps muttering. 

By the time he’s even sort of healed, the ghoul is moving. He has to be in a lot less pain, which is a good thing, but remembering what Ken said about getting either fear or anger, you’re a bit worried. What if he _does_ get aggressive? Will you be able to keep him under any kind of control?

“Hurry up,” Ken hisses. “I don’t care if he’s scared or hurt or whatever. You need to get working or things’ll get bad. Get him under control, _please._ I’ve seen what you can do. I’ve seen how they react.”

That’s... that’s a lot of faith placed in you. You’re honestly a little concerned. Swallowing, you clench your fists. You need to do something. 

“F-Fix... me...?” the ghoul on the floor mumbles. “N-No... I– I w-won’t... Please don’... no more pa-pain–” He’s shaking harder. The look on his face is starting to seem frantic. Now that he’s healing, it’s getting easier for him to move. He might be able to try to fight back soon. A terrified ghoul that feels cornered is dangerous. Way too dangerous for anyone’s good. 

“Ken, what’s his name? Like, his real name, if you know it.”

“I think... he goes by Yamori, but his real name... If I heard it right back then, Yakumo.” Ken looks at the ghoul on the ground, Yakumo, with visible fury. You’re getting the feeling he _wants_ to kill him. 

Alright. You have a name. You know what you need to do. You have the feeling already that this is going to cross some major lines, but overdoing it seems like a lot better idea than risking anything. You’re going to have to push things probably quite a bit further than you’d like to. 

“Yakumo,” you start, putting on your best comforting voice. This is going to be a whole lot of trying to make this ghoul feel safe. “I’m going to touch you now. I’m performing a basic kagune therapy to calm you down. I know you’re scared right now, and I’ll help. It might feel intense, but I won’t do anything to hurt you. You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure that you’re safe.” It feels all kinds of weird to be talking to a massive monster of a ghoul like he’s a scared animal, but there’s a first time for everything, you suppose. 

Yakumo makes an awful whining sound when you shift around to sit behind him. Fortunately, his shirt is already off, so that’s one less thing for you to worry about. The mass of his kakuja is red and pulsing, painfully tense even now that it’s healed. He’s scared and wound horrifically tight, and the scales of his kagune looks to you like they haven’t relaxed in years. 

Tentatively, almost expecting to be skewered, you lay one hand along the twisting kagune covering his arm. Yakumo groans like he thinks you’re going to kill him. The whole mass of it goes impossibly more tense. 

“N-No... Don’... please don’ rip i-it out– I do-don’... I don’t wanna die...” His voice is cracking. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. 

Rip it out. That’s... that’s what they do to captured ghouls. He thinks he’s been caught. He thinks he’s about to have his kakuhou cut out while he’s still alive and awake to feel it happening. No wonder he’s so scared. You feel distinctly sick. Such a strong ghoul, so, so scared of you. 

“Nothing’s going to be ripped out. I’m taking care of you.” You somehow manage to keep your voice even and calm. Ken looks at you like you’re crazy for trying to comfort the ghoul in front of you. 

And then, it’s time to start. Very carefully, you draw your hand along the rough, scaled texture of Yakumo’s kagune, fingers stroking along the tense, sharp flesh. Almost immediately, the whole thing pulses, Yakumo letting out a miserable sound. You continue like that, petting, just petting up and down his kagune-covered arm, tracing from shoulder to the curling spikes just past where his hand should be. The texture is rough and grating under your hands, tense for a fight or worse, but still, so, so vulnerable. 

Little by little, though, the kagune starts to relax. Yakumo’s breathing is close to hyperventilating, but the rough surface of his kagune slowly starts to soften into something not quite as tense. It softens down to long, ridged, tentacle-like scales, bristling under your hand with every touch. 

With persistence, it relaxes even further. The little scales start to stand up on end into your touch, the sandpaper surface bristling and tickling at your skin. Yakumo makes a variety of miserable noises, whimpering brokenly whenever you hit somewhere sensitive. Even so, he’s softening up. His body is relaxing against his will, instinct plain and simple taking over. 

You get an idea pretty quickly. With the scales rising up and pressing into your fingers, the undersides are exposed. With kagune, the parts that aren’t touched as often tend to be more sensitive, and you can imagine that the scales have been doing a pretty good job of keeping that part shielded. 

As soon as your fingertips slide under one of the larger ones, dragging along the shockingly soft underside, Yakumo _keens,_ apparently attempting to bury his face in the floor. That’s sensitive. That’s exactly what you need. 

Another stroke and the scale fans out willingly, baring itself to the touch. His kakuhou is loosening up as well, you note, just barely starting to drool a familiar red fluid. You work your way from one scale to another, oh-so-gently brushing over the impossibly tender skin. 

At those parts, the sandpaper-rough texture is gone. Instead, the flesh there is velvety-soft, palpably vulnerable and sensitive. 

Yakumo certainly seems to be feeling it. The more you work towards the outer tips, the more vocal he gets, making distinctly overwhelmed noises into the floor. His big body is still all spread out. There’s nothing for him to hide behind, save for maybe biting into his own lip. You have the feeling he’s too out of his mind with terror to even think much about that. 

When you reach the outer tips, where the biggest, longest scales point out, clearly the weapons of the whole mess, you dig in. Parting the scales, you reach in to the point where they converge. Mumbling comforting words, you find Yakumo’s hand in the mess of it, the point where his kagune is latched onto the flesh of his wrist. Just stroking around those bases, his fingers twitch. It must be sensitive. It must feel much too vulnerable. 

On impulse, you give his hand a comforting squeeze. 

And that– that does something. Yakumo makes an awful, desperate sound and goes completely, utterly limp against the floor, the tension bleeding out of him fast enough that you can see him go lax. 

“There, that’s good. Keep breathing. You’ll be okay. I’m not going to hurt you at all, see? You can relax and let yourself feel good.”

You get a very clear feeling that this ghoul has never had much in the means of comfort. Holding his hand was what did it. One simple, comforting squeeze was enough to finally make him relax for you. It’s kind of sad. 

When you glance over at Ken, he’s staring with something between shock and tension, like he really, really hopes you can fix this. You give him a reassuring smile, but all he does is go right back to staring at what he can see of Yakumo’s face. He looks almost angry. You’re really, really starting to wonder where exactly this ghoul he brought you came from. 

But you keep working. You start pushing towards the base next, sliding your fingers under every stand-out scale. Yakumo’s noises get louder and more frantic the closer you get, but he’s quickly getting too overwhelmed to move properly. His free hand is twitching, fingers all but clawing at your floor. His shoulders are hunched up just the slightest bit, but he’s staying sprawled out and perfectly well-behaved. 

At the point where you dig under a scale a little too close to the base, Yakumo whines again, slack-jawed and louder than ever. Your hands are getting slick from the RC fluid dripping out of him. Ken glares. 

“It’s pathetic,” he mutters at last. “This ghoul, this _monster,_ melting just like anyone else. He thought he was so tough, and now he gets to live with a human taking him apart like you could any one of them. I bet he’s going to wish I’d just killed him while he still had the chance to die. 

“Ken, can we not be threatening, please?” you hiss. “I know that this looks kind of... interesting, but it’s natural. You don’t need to make fun of him for being receptive. You know how it feels too.”

Making a face at that, Ken goes right back to staring at where your hands meet Yakumo’s kagune. He still looks horribly stressed. 

But you keep working. This is how you’re going to fix things. This is how you’re going to show Ken that you can. Kakuja are new, sure, but this one is responding to your touch just the same as any regular ghoul. 

The base seems to be almost too sensitive. Every time your fingertips brush against anywhere within about six inches of where the red thorns emerge from Yakumo’s back, he all but whimpers. So instead, you move up, following the pattern of scales up over his shoulder blades, up to the nape of his neck and the back of his head. The purple-red scales cover him all the way up to his face, hiding about half of his head and face. A couple of them are curled into his mouth. Another two are concealing one of his eyes. 

Massaging lightly. you stroke over the tendrils hiding Yakumo’s eye. You can’t see his face from here, pressed into the floor as it is, but you can make out the sharp sound that having you so close to such a vulnerable area results in. You carefully rub at the area, working on loosening the tightly-coiled flesh like a stubborn muscle that needs to relax. 

This part is slower, more intimate, but when your fingers hook under the tendril in Yakumo’s mouth, he _whines,_ twisting like an eel and trying to hide as much of his face from you as possible, not wanting to be seen. 

“You’re alright,” you murmur, trying to sound at least sort of comforting. “I won’t hurt you. Nothing will. You’ll be okay.”

In a move that you know isn’t quite appropriate for the situation, you comb your fingers through Yakumo’s bleached hair. He shudders in response. You know you’re probably going to have to push your limits here. This is an extreme situation, and while you’d normally make sure you didn’t cross the line into _too far,_ the wrong move could end in people getting killed this time. You swallow. You’re going to have to do some not great things.

When Yakumo’s breathing has slowed to something a little less than frantic, you move back to the base of his kagune, starting by digging your thumbs into the strong muscles surrounding it and rubbing out any tension. This, as you expect, ends in a fresh gush of RC fluid dribbling out and the visible loosening of his kakuhou, opening between the lax muscles. 

Slowly, carefully, you let your fingers brush along the line where liquid muscle meets the most vulnerable spot on this monster of a ghoul’s body. The slightest touch earns a sharp jerk, a quiet, broken whine. 

No one’s ever touched him like this before, that much is obvious. From how tense his kagune is, from the dramatic way he’s responding to every little touch, you’d be surprised if Yakumo had ever felt safe in his life. 

He’s one of the ones who’s seen the darkest parts of their world. 

This is a ghoul who’s killed humans. This is a ghoul who’s probably a big part of whatever happened to Ken. You’re handling something that’s taken _lives._ This situation is one that could easily end in corpses. The ghoul under your fingertips will hurt people if you don’t get a good hit in at his aggression. You’re– you’re just going to have to make very sure that, even when he’s fully aware again, he won’t be hurting anyone. Not you. Not Ken. 

Gritting your teeth and doubting if it’s a wise idea even as you do it, you allow your fingertips to slide just barely inside Yakumo’s kakuhou. 

With a keen, the ghoul underneath you goes utterly limp. 

You can feel the soft, tender tissue under your touch. The heat of what amounts to his insides is seeping into your skin. You’ve breached the very edges of the kakuhou before on particularly difficult cases, but it’s ridiculously intense– to say the very least. 

Curling two fingers, allowing them to slide inside to the first knuckle, you brush against the very root of Yakumo’s kagune. 

The kakuhou is little more than a small pouch of an organ, but that means that things can go _inside._ Any kind of touch to the inner meat of it is so sensitive it borders on painful, and the feeling of anything being forced inside, you know, is enough to reduce a ghoul to tears. Under tense circumstances, having that part invaded is a pain like no other. When it’s safe and controlled, nothing has a greater effect. 

You only spend a few seconds with your fingers against the inside of him. When Yakumo’s shoulders start to shudder, when noises that are unmistakably sobs start to leave him, you draw back immediately. 

He’s crying. The ghoul underneath you is, without a doubt, crying. His whole kagune is limp, flopped against the floor. You can’t make out a part of him that you think could move. The closest thing to words he can get out are slurred, garbled sobs. You think he might be pleading with you. 

You’re afraid that he is. 

But this is your mess to clean up now, and you have to see it through. You return to massaging the outer coil of Yakumo’s kagune, the part that coils loosely around his arm, covering it in the thorn-like scales. You dig your fingers under them all over again, stroking at the bellies of the tendrils until every one fans out for your touch. Slowly, slowly, you start to ease back, working backward from the most intense stimulation to the comforting. 

Eventually, when the whole of him is limp and lax and completely incapable of movement, you reach for Yakumo’s hand once again. Since it worked the first time, you shift your position to sit neatly beside him, wrapping his huge hand up in yours and staying there. 

It’s comfort. It’s manipulating Yakumo’s own brain chemistry against him to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone. You’re not sure if you should be relieved that he’s feeling safe, or guilty about the near-brainwashing. 

You’re shaking. There are so many things you could have done wrong. There are too many ways you could have ruined this. But Yakumo is limp against the ground, not trying to hurt or kill anything, and that’s– that’s probably some kind of victory. His kakuja is slowly retracting, you note. He’s coming down from whatever drew out that part of him. 

“Did I go too far?” you ask, voice almost a croak. You kind of did just hit the shut-down button on a living being without any kind of permission. 

“No, of course not. It was either that or put the monster down.” Ken’s voice is way too cold. From where he’s nervously perched on a chair, he’s eyeing Yakumo with something like anticipation. “You might have fixed it. I hope you did. I didn’t want his pathetic life on my hands.”

“How am I going to report this?” you mutter next, all but asking the air. It’ll be one long, interesting pile of paperwork to explain that one of your clients dragged a heavily injured ghoul to your doorstep with the expectation that you’d fix the situation– and the threat that the other ghoul would wind up dead if you didn’t. “Like, seriously. How do I _explain_ this?”

“I don’t know, but you did what you had to.” Suddenly, Ken doesn’t sound quite so cold. When you look up, he’s staring at you with mismatched eyes, his kakugan still activated and inky black, a worried look in his eyes. 

There’s an unspoken sense of ‘please don’t be mad at me’ in the air. 

“It... it’ll be fine.” You smile, trying to look and sound reassuring. “I can handle it. I have to. This is what I’m here for, and I knew that going in. I understand that I could have to deal with dangerous situations. No matter what, I’ll take care of this and keep you safe.” Ken tenses at your words. You somehow don’t think you said the wrong thing. Maybe he really needed to hear that someone wants to protect him, that someone will try. 

The room goes silent for a bit after that. Yakumo is still crying, little sobs shaking his massive shoulders every few seconds. You’re still holding his hand, now acutely aware of how he could crush it if he wanted to. He probably needs the comfort anyway. Scratch that, he _definitely_ does. 

Ken is shaking too, you notice. Now that the situation is calming down, you’re noticing a lot of things. His clothes are bloodstained. His hair really is white down to the roots. His nails on both fingers and toes are black with what is _not_ nail polish. There’s what looks like a manacle around one wrist. 

Even worse, the scared look is coming back. Now that you’re done with Yakumo, Ken is making the same face he did when you first opened the door; something fragile and scared and way too broken. The angry tension is seeping out of him, replaced with posture that’s far too withdrawn. 

“More importantly, are you okay?” you ask, sort of dreading the answer. It’s a question with an obvious answer, but it still needs to be said. 

Ken freezes up for a moment, staring at you like a deer in the headlights. “I-I...” he gets out, then sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders hunch in, his legs move closer together, and he curls in like he himself is afraid of what the answer will be. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know if I’m really alright or not, but I have the feeling the answer is no.”

Ken actually tries to smile at that, giving you a strained, watery grin that looks like it’s been diluted a thousand times over. His eyes are so, so sad. You really just want to go over there and hug him until whatever’s hurting him doesn’t hurt anymore. You’re well aware that that’s not possible. 

“I don’t think you’ll want to be close to me anymore.” Ken’s voice cracks on the words. His hands clench into fists in his lap. “I c-can’t say what happened... but it’s not the same anymore. _I’m_ not the same.” Breath coming sharp and broken, Ken curls in on himself a bit more under your gaze. He swallows hard, his shoulders shake, and for one awful moment, you’re sure that he’s going to start to cry then and there. 

“That’s not true! I’m worried is all. Where _were_ you? What happened? I don’t know where you went, and I was scared for you. I thought you’d died. I thought you might never come back.” Your voice cracks too. 

“N-No! I’d always come back here. As long as I’m alive, I’ll come back here. I don’t think I couldn’t. I can’t say where I was. I can’t say what happened. If I said it... y-you’d never look at me the same. I don’t want that. A lot of things have happened, but _please,_ can this at least stay the same?” Ken’s voice breaks on the last couple of words.

The same. He wants things to stay the same. That speaks horrible things as to how screwed-up Ken probably is now, but... how could you refuse him? “Tell me someday, please? When you’re ready, I want to know what you’ve been through. I won’t think of you any differently. I just want to know how I’m supposed to help.” You take a breath, trying to stay composed. You have the feeling you have to be the strong one here. “For now, though, let’s get this taken care of. I need you to get this guy up to my spare room. I don’t want him waking up like this. And we should get you taken care of too, right?” You try to smile. You try to look comforting. 

“Y-Yeah. I can do that.” Purpose. Giving him something to do might be the best you can do for him. Ken gets himself under Yakumo’s shoulder, hefting his limp, massive form off the ground. You scurry off to find clean clothes and anything else you think could possibly help now. 

Ken is back down in the living room when you return, pacing nervously. He jolts hard as soon as he senses your presence, whipping around to look at you like he expects someone else; someone worse. 

“Just me,” you soothe. “Here. These are mine, but they’re fairly loose, and we’re pretty close in height anyway. Can you change out of... those, please?” You try not to point out the bloodstains. You imagine that’s not a topic that Ken wants to hear anything about right now.

Without a hint of shame, Ken strips his shirt off then and there. The motion is so different from the shy young man you’ve known before that you almost flinch. Ken slips the soft, loose pajama top over his head quickly and efficiently, almost worryingly so. When he moves to take off his pants too, you look away. Even if Ken doesn’t have a concept of modesty at the moment, you don’t know if he’s really okay with you seeing _things._

The clothes make a world of difference. Even with the haunted look in his eyes, Ken looks a lot less worn around the edges when he’s not in bloodied rags. He clenches the fingers of one hand in the loose pajama pants, the other pulling part of the shirt up to his nose. 

“...it smells like you,” Ken mumbles. You think your heart might be breaking. The quiet, needy admission hits you like a stake to the chest. He needs the comfort just as badly as you want to give it. 

“Y-Yeah, it should. I hope that’s a good thing.” You smile, trying to look at ease. “Now, I want you to get some sleep here if you can, but first, would it be okay if I give you the injection again? I know it’s been long enough that it’s worn off, and I’d really rather be able to get some food in you later. I don’t have to, but I think it would be a good idea. 

Ken shivers at that, swallowing hard. He closes his eyes, both ghoul and human, and heaves a sigh that sounds like he’s about to break. 

“ _You_ can.” The stress on ‘you’ is obvious. You don’t like that. “I... I can trust you. Just do it quickly, please.” Ken’s eyes squinch shut a little tighter. He sits down again, rolling up a sleeve and holding his arm out with resolute determination. You’re getting a bad feeling all over again about what’s happened to him, but you fetch one of the few doses you keep around anyway. It’s necessary. You know you won’t hurt him. 

You sit down beside him, swabbing a quick patch over his arm, and administering the dose with the quick, practiced precision you’re learning to expect from yourself. Ken flinches when the needle goes in, then lets out a huge breath when it’s done. He’s scared. He’s scared and you _hate_ that. 

Scooting in a little closer, you hesitantly wrap an arm around Ken’s shoulders. He stiffens for all of two seconds– then goes absolutely limp, slumping against you with a whine. His hair, fluffy as ever even now that it’s white, tickles your neck. You think you can feel his shoulders shaking. Ken presses his body into yours on what feels like instinct. He’s digging his blackened fingernails into his palms so hard you think you can see blood. You think, suddenly, that he’s trying very hard not to hug you. 

“You need sleep,” you say when you can’t think of anything else. “And you’re going to get it in my bed.”

Ken looks at you incredulously. 

“It’ll smell like me. That was a good thing with the clothes, right? I can’t pull another ghoul-pile right now ‘cause I have to watch over the one you drug home, but I can give you the safest place to sleep I’ve got.” You smile with a forced glow and tenderness that’s way too real. 

For a moment, you think that Ken might be about to cry. The look he gives you is pure gratefulness. His shoulders hunch in. His nails dig in tighter. He’s shaking so hard you can feel it in your bones. 

“Home...” he mutters, leaning into your touch a little more. 

. . . 

Yamori comes back to awareness slowly. The first thing he notices is that nothing hurts. Which... he can’t quite think of why this is a strange thing, but somehow, he knows that it is. He should be hurting, some instinctive thought says. He should be in quite a bit of pain. 

A breath in doesn’t ache through his ribs. A breath out is smooth and even. With his eyes still closed, Yamori shivers. Something feels very, very off, and the more his consciousness returns, the more aware of that fact he is. He’s somewhere soft, that much is obvious, but for some reason, he can’t quite call back the memories of being in his room, in his own space. 

The other thing that’s very, very strange is that he feels, somehow, safe. Safe is a feeling that ghouls don’t get, and one that even when they do, it’s unwise to get used to. There’s no real security for their kind, and the fact that he feels quite a bit like melting back into whatever’s behind him is very, very odd. Yamori’s limbs aren’t quite responding. He can make his fingers twitch, not much more. This doesn’t really register as _bad._

And then, like a hit crashing into him, Yamori remembers exactly what happened who-knows-how-long before the moment he’s in. 

Kaneki. The half-ghoul. Tied down in Yamori’s torture chair, fingers and toes in a bucket, pliers and needles and taking someone apart piece by piece in the way he knows exactly how to do. A centipede crawling into his ear, stirring up his brains and turning them into mush, and then– then– Kaneki breaking free. Metal snapping, bones breaking. A chunk torn out of Yamori’s face, and then another one. A fight that Yamori was _losing,_ kagune sprouting out of him in ways that it never had before, a feeling of mindless fury that ate him up from the inside out while he fought for his life. 

Finally, losing. Pinned down like a bug with the half-ghoul over him. 

Abruptly, a sense of panic and rage washes over Yamori like a wave. But just as quickly, it fades, recedes, leaving nothing but subdued numbness behind. There’s no anger left– there’s no part of him that can feel it. 

And that’s the moment that Yamori realizes that something is very, very wrong. He feels _drugged,_ which is bad on a thousand levels, levels that should make him feel like his heart is bursting from his chest with frantic fight-or-flight. Instead, he lays there still and quiet, breathing hard. 

It’s around that point that Yamori realizes that there’s someone else in the room. A human, from the smell of it. He manages to force his eyes to open, but when he does, the world spins on its axis far too quickly. 

You’re sitting across the room, staring at him. Yamori thinks he’s going to be sick. He’s surely been captured. It’s going to start all over again. 

“Where am I?” he tries to growl. It comes out more like a dry croak. “This is the CCG, isn’t it? You must be the one who’s here to– to torture me this time.” There’s no use hiding it. He’ll be cut open soon enough, either someone’s torture toy or the next hunk of material for a Quinque. The panic is getting stronger, breaking through the dull haze of whatever drug he’s on. 

“Nope, definitely not the CCG,” you say, and Yamori _somehow_ doesn’t get the feeling that you’re lying. “You’re with Ghoul Services. You were brought in injured, I fixed you up, and now you’re staying here under my watch until your case gets settled. There’s not going to be any hurting or torturing. Just... I guess a little vacation from whatever you were doing before. You can’t exactly leave, but no one will hurt you here.”

Captive for certain, then. Yamori feels a lump in his throat almost choke him. This is bad. If not the CCG, then this has to be some independent organization, quite possibly without rules or regulations or anything stopping you or anyone else from bringing those days _back._

“When are you going to kill me?” he demands. It’s better to get this kind of thing over with. It’s better to know what’s coming, even a little bit.

“Um... I’m not? I mean, I don’t know how much you remember about earlier, but I kind of did the exact opposite of killing you. So I really don’t see why I’d try to do it now,” you say resolutely, voice steady and calm.

It takes a minute for Yamori to think it out. ‘Remember’, you say. Panic tears through Yamori’s chest like a blade, like the sharp end of a kagune. What is he supposed to remember? What could you have done? He’s not wounded, he’s not hurting. The only thing that’s wrong is the vague dizzy feeling, the way that, no matter what he does, he can’t work up enough anger to want to hurt you. He doesn’t even want to try. 

Once again, the memories hit him way too hard. 

Kagune, kakuja. Hands on his weapon, on the softest part of him, stroking and petting and digging into every place that made him collapse. Too much contact, too much stimulation, making every nerve feel raw and on edge. The feeling of going limp underneath someone so, so small. 

And the memory that stands out more than any of the rest– a hand in his, warm fingers clutching his like he’s anything but the monster that he is. 

Yamori chokes on the thought of it. All too suddenly, the memories of how pathetic he acted are surging back all at once– the distinct knowledge of what it felt like to have a human’s hands on the part of him that’s been used for nothing, nothing until that point, but to kill. In a moment of weakness more extreme than anything yet, Yamori thinks he’s going to be sick, the shame of it all sinking down to his belly like a stone. 

“Hey... uh. I have something else to offer you. Routine service and all. There’s a drug that Ghoul Services provides; it’ll make you able to eat human food for about a week at a time. You won’t have to hunt or worry about faking eating. Everything will taste like it’s supposed to, and it won’t make you sick. It’s just a quick injection, nothing painful or bad. I think it would be wise to administer it, but I wanted your consent first.” You smile a bit too softly, like you’re not saying– saying _that._

A needle. An injection. A syringe going into his eye, and after that– pain, pain, pain like nothing even a monster like him had ever experienced. The fear of knowing that his life rested in the hands of someone who only wanted to see him hurt and hurt and hurt. It’s back– He’s back there like he never left, and suddenly, Yamori isn’t the torturer anymore. He’s once again at the mercy of a human who’s going– going to break and break–

“P-Please...” he croaks, the words almost refusing to leave. “Don’t h-hurt me. I can’t–, if I-I go back... n-no... no...” He sounds pathetic. He sounds broken. It should be enough to make him seethe with rage, but instead, all Yamori can think is that he’s going to be shattered once again. 

The drugged feeling weighs heavy on his limbs, sucking all of the will to fight right out of him. Everything feels floaty and light, his thoughts twisted into a tangle of fear and soft, subdued dullness that eats him up. 

You move over to the bed, sitting down much, much too close. Yamori’s breath tears through his chest so sharply it hurts. 

“No, it wouldn’t hurt you. That’s not what I do. Ghoul Services exists to help, not to hurt. All we want is for you and everyone else to be treated like the living beings you are.” You say it so easily. You say it like it could be real. “The injection is just so you can eat. It’s so you don’t have to hurt anyone. The kagune therapy– what I did earlier– is just to make you feel safe and calm. My goal is to help you, and I won’t do anything but that. You deserve to be treated with kindness as much as anyone else does.”

With an expression of determination, you reach out very, very slowly, laying your little hand on top of his. Your fingers brush his skin, gentler than anything Yamori has ever known. For a moment, he can almost believe you. 

It must be whatever you did to him, whatever you did to his kagune. There’s no way that _Yamori_ could be this weak. It doesn’t make sense that he hasn’t killed you already. All Yamori can do is stare at the point where your hand meets his, fixated sharply on the inexplicable tenderness. 

He deserves to be treated with kindness. That’s what you said. Under any other circumstances, Yamori would have laughed, then killed whoever suggested it. Instead, all he can do is swallow hard, breathing like he’s dying. This isn’t right. You shouldn’t be able to do this to someone like him. He’s _Jason._ He’s a feared, hated ghoul who’s killed his way to the top. 

“Just do it,” Yamori bites out. If you’re set on hurting him while he’s like this, you’re going to do it no matter what he says. This way, he can at least preserve a few of the remaining shreds of his dignity. 

You make a face like you’re concerned, eyes narrowing as you stare at him with an interest that Yamori’s mind all-too-quickly connects to a child staring at a pinned insect. He still can’t find the will to fight you. He should have a kagune through your throat by now, but all he can do is lay there numbly, watching the situation like a bystander, helpless to do anything to prevent his own fate. He can’t do anything but comply. 

“Alright,” you say resolutely. “Thank you for agreeing. I know you’re probably very scared, but I won’t do anything to hurt you. I’ll prove it.”

Prove it, you say. Yamori watches your back as you get up and retrieve something from across the room. You’re turning your back on him. You’re not afraid. Everything about that picture is so, so wrong. 

The world goes a little blurry for a moment, but when his eyes focus again, it’s to you sitting beside him once again, a small syringe in hand. You take Yamori’s arm very carefully, all but holding his hand once again, and before Yamori has time to relapse into the thoughts of being in that cell, the needle pierces his arm like every ghoul-inherent defense is nothing. 

You have access to the metal that can go through a ghoul’s skin. Yamori watches the plunger of the syringe go down, feeling like he might be sick. Whatever’s in that– there’s no way you could have been telling the truth– might be the end of him. You have the supplies to do it. 

“There we go. I tried to make it quick. I hope that didn’t hurt?” You smile at that, a soft, diluted thing that doesn’t quite look happy. Yamori gags on nothing, feeling himself start to shake as panic buzzes through his veins. The wound has already healed, but he let that happen. He let it happen, and now anything that comes after will have been his own fault for being stupid, for being weak. “You’re alright. I know you’re strong. You’ll be just fine.”

Yamori debates the merits of flopping back on the bed, curling up, and pretending like you don’t exist. That kind of thing might be all he _can_ do. He’s tired in a way he didn’t know was possible before now. If you want to kill him, if you want to stick things under his skin until he’s little more than a living pincushion, there’d be precious little he could do to stop you. 

His kagune isn’t even responding right. The couple of times he’s tried to flex it under his skin, there’s been barely a twitch. Either he’s completely drained, or you did something, _something_ to make it not work. 

“You’ll be okay, Yakumo.”

Your hand goes to Yamori’s once again, giving one last squeeze to his massive fingers. His name. Somehow, you know his name. Your tone is much too tender, much too raw to truly be directed at him.

After that, he starts feeling much more dizzy, a weakness spreading through his limbs far too quickly. It might be panic, it might be rage; whatever feeling it is dulled by the cotton filling his head. It’s _wrong._ He shouldn’t be so soft. He should be killing you, torturing you, not laying there complacently and waiting to be hurt. There are a thousand things you could do to him, and not a one of them will end in anything but more pain. 

He’s supposed to be the torturer, Yamori thinks, not the one in the cell once again. That was something he should have gotten past long ago. He never should have allowed himself to be under a human’s control ever again. It’s all a waiting game now– for when you’ll be the one putting _his_ fingers in a bucket and sliding that needle into his eye. In a way, it’s fair play. 

You say something before you leave. Yamori doesn’t quite hear it through the way the world is spinning, but you do say something. Then, you get up, give him one more worried smile, and leave the room, shutting the door behind you. Yamori is alone, then, in a too-small bed, surrounded in soft sheets that smell like laundry detergent and vaguely, you. He’s left thinking of wherever Kaneki might be, how long it will be until he dies. Kaneki was there before, when you had your hands on his kagune. Kaneki, who beat Yamori into a bloody pulp and surely wants him dead or eaten. 

Yamori shudders. That’s not a pleasant thought. If Kaneki is still there, his end might not come through you. He could be pinned down easily like this, like this when he can barely move and barely think. 

The image of another ghoul’s mouth taking _pieces_ out fills his head, the image of what it would feel like to be the one being eaten. 

Yamori decides very quickly that he hates that idea most of all. 

Even then, the correct level of emotional response isn’t there. What should be fear is just a vague, numb sense of worry. What should be seething rage is just a faint irritation simmering under his skin. Nothing is working right. Not a part of him is responding how it should. 

So Yamori lays back against the pillow behind him, letting himself droop. There’s nothing he can do to fight. If you’re going to kill him, if Kaneki’s going to kill him, the best he can do is accept his fate now. 

. . . 

“How is he?” Ken asks when you get back to the living room, his voice a mix of irritation and worry. “He didn’t try to hurt you, did he?”

“Nope. He’s out of it. Like, barely thinking straight and only sort of able to _move._ There’s going to be absolutely no hurting people for that guy for quite a while. He acts drugged, which he kind of is, so there’s not much to worry about with me.” You try to smile, plop yourself down on the couch next to a very tense Ken, his shoulders hunched halfway up to his ears. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Ken says with disbelief. “ _Him._ That monster. You really did fix it. I mean– I always thought you could, but thinking that and seeing it happen are... different. After everything he’s done, I guess knowing that he’s just like the rest of us isn’t bad.”

Us. You don’t like that. Ken has never exactly considered himself a ghoul before, and the sudden switch from ‘in the middle of both worlds’ is worrying. You swallow. There’s not much you can say. Ken hasn’t told you a thing about what happened to him, and that’s okay. He wants things to stay the same, he said. He wants you to look at him just the same as you did before whatever happened in the time he was missing. You can do that. Even with his white hair and haunted eyes, he still has the same soft face, the same fluffy hair, the same aura of someone you want to protect. 

“Can I hug you again?” you ask, because you really want to. He’s still wearing your pajamas, looking impossibly soft and small in the baggy clothes. You’ve caught him tugging part of the shirt up to his nose four times. He said it smells like you, and that’s apparently a comfort. 

Ken looks startled for a moment, eyes going wide. Just as quickly, though, his shoulders drop, every part of his face switching to some desperate expression that makes your heart hurt. 

“Y-Yeah,” he gets out. “I’d like that. I mean, I think I kinda need it.” Ken forces a smile, forces a laugh, hands fidgeting nervously like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. 

You scoot over and pull him into your arms without thinking. That kind of face _hurts._ You know Ken’s trying so hard to be okay when he’s really, really not. It takes a minute for his arms to wrap around you in return, but when they do, it’s to every part of him sagging with relief. Ken squeezes you maybe a little too tight, resting his chin on your shoulder and inhaling so deeply you can feel it. 


	2. Don't let this ember enter in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all.... *SCREAMS * 
> 
> I'M SO SORRY!!!!!!!! THIS FIC JUST DOES NOT FUCKING LIKE ME!!!! >.< I tried. I really did. But unfortunately, I couldn't get the help I needed on it for various reasons for MONTHS. Also, this past uhhhh.... year... has been kinda rough... But, um, yeah, I'm here! I updated! I promise that this fic is not and never will be abandoned!!! o3o With any luck, I'll even have a new chapter again soon! Or at least sooner than last time....
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who's still here and reading! I appreciate all of you soooo much!!! :D We've still got a lot of ghoul babies to fix, so enjoy the next stage of this wonderful mess! <3
> 
> invertedphantasmagoria.tumblr.com

A day or so passes. The ghoul, Yakumo, is asleep for most of it. He’s still healing, most likely, and the kagune therapy also took a lot out of him. You understand well that he’s more or less drugged up on his own biology-- and fighting it is a losing battle. For a while, you feel guilty.  _ Really  _ guilty. 

Then, when you step into the room to check on him and see how much more peaceful he looks compared to when you first saw him... less so. 

On the second day of being at your house, while you’ve put your workplace on a temporary hold to make sure that this particular problem is dealt with, Yakumo is up and moving. And still acting very, very drugged.

The first thing you do is offer him clothes. His shirt was, well,  _ shredded  _ when he’d been dropped on your doorstep, and leaving him in bloodstained dress pants also doesn’t feel right. Yakumo reluctantly winds up in a massive hoodie and soft pants-- cheap, but the biggest sizes Ken could find. He looks distinctly disgusted with himself, but also, apparently, doesn’t have it in him to protest. You think he also looks a lot less intimidating like this. 

When you offer him food, Yakumo looks at you like you’re crazy. It’s just chicken noodle soup. Simple, warm, and hopefully a safe choice. 

“The fuck is that for?” he asks in a tired, dead tone of voice that sounds like he’s done with the world a hundred times over. Still exhausted; too much so to work up any anger even over something like this. 

“Soup. You can eat it now. I gave you the injection, so it’s safe and will taste like it’s supposed to.” You try to keep smiling, even though the worn-out look in Yakumo’s eyes is making you sort of tense. 

Yakumo stares at you for about fifteen seconds before he sighs, gives in, and takes a spoonful. He’s probably expecting it to taste disgusting, that it’s some kind of trick, but the second the salt and heat dissolves across his tongue... a flicker of shock crosses his face. He also almost chokes. 

“See? Not too bad, is it?” 

Yakumo is silent, but takes another bite. His eyes close this time in a gesture that’s almost too vulnerable to watch. It’s these moments where you realize just how staggering it is for them to be able to eat things that aren’t just meat and blood, to taste something that isn’t coffee. There’s a lot that you’ll never understand about how hard it is to live as a ghoul. There are a lot of things that you can guess just from watching them. Painful things.

Yakumo eats slowly. 

When you take the empty bowl, he stares at the place where it was with an expression that you can’t read. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to try to snatch it back or something equally heartbreaking.

You know that it’s the post-therapy brain chemicals making him weird, but it still is strange to see. You also know that this is a very, very dangerous ghoul who’s probably killed people and done more awful things than you can imagine. And you just fed him and have him sitting at your table, as harmless as can be. An intimidating thought, really.

When Ken shows up again, it couldn’t be tenser. You aren’t exactly eager to have the two of them in the same room, not after how Ken had  _ threatened  _ the other ghoul not long before, but it’s kind of unavoidable. Ken drops by to visit while Yakumo is moving through the living room. The second that the two catch each other’s eyes, you can  _ feel  _ the tension in the room skyrocket. Yakumo looks somewhere between ready to tear Ken’s throat out and like he thinks he’s about to be eaten. Ken, meanwhile, goes cold in a way that you really, really don’t like to see from him. 

“You’re adjusting well,” Ken says, bitterness thick in his tone. Yakumo’s eyes narrow. You can see the muscles in his powerful shoulders tightening up. You know that these two have issues, but... “Is he behaving?” Ken asks you. “If he’s not, we  _ both  _ know what I can do about that.”

“No threatening, please,” you say as casually as you can. “Everything is fine, so don’t worry, okay?” Even through the harsh words, you get the distinct feeling that Ken is just trying to keep you safe. 

Yakumo growls in a low tone that’s decidedly not human. You can barely hear it, but you figure that Ken does from the way he  _ glares.  _ You really don’t know what happened between these two, and you’re not sure that you want to. It’s not hard to guess that Yakumo had a large part in why Ken is different-- and that he’s very, very dangerous. Ken makes that clear. 

“You feel weird, don’t you?” Ken asks Yakumo. “ _ Tame,  _ right?”

Yakumo’s lack of an answer says all that it needs to. 

“Yeah, of course you do. That’s what happens to the ones like you. Don’t worry; this person is too nice to hurt you. You won’t wind up like  _ that  _ again.” It doesn’t sound like Ken is intending to reassure him. Instead, there’s a certain needling bitterness in his words that just sounds cruel. 

“...what happened to me?” Yakumo asks at last. “What the  _ fuck  _ did you do?” He’s looking at you with what seems to be the most intimidation he can muster. Drugged up on his own brain chemicals, it’s not much.

“Kagune therapy. It’s one of the things that Ghoul Services offers. Simply put, it’s a massage that’s relaxing and good for your mental state. It reduces aggression in ghouls as well, thanks to what goes on in terms of chemical release. You feel drugged because your body finally relaxed.” You still have some guilt about doing what you did while Yakumo was entirely unable to resist or consent, but you know that it had to be done. 

“Therapy...” he mutters with disbelief. “And what made you want to do  _ that  _ instead of just saving yourself the trouble and killing me?”

“Because you deserve to be alive as much as anyone else does.”

Somehow, that one line seems to make Yakumo freeze up. His eyes stay fixed on you for a little longer than they should, and when he finally looks away, it seems like some part of him has been wounded. 

It seems like he wants to say something, but can’t quite find the words. There’s an insecurity in Yakumo’s posture that looks out of place on such a large, powerful man. It’s like what you just said shook loose one of the important pieces keeping him together. You have a  _ guess  _ as to what he wants to ask... so you decide to take a risk and ask the question yourself.

“I can do it again, if you’re okay with that. The circumstances are... better, this time, so it wouldn’t be as intense. Quick, easy, and you’d understand what happened. Would you let me?” You’re honestly expecting him to refuse. There’s no way that his pride would let him agree--

“...yes,” Yakumo mutters through gritted teeth.

To the side, Ken is  _ smirking.  _

“Okay, that’s good. I’m really glad that you’ll let me.” You turn to Ken. “Be right back, okay? You can stay out here this time.”

“Don’t let your guard down,” is all he says, tone serious, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes that leaves you feeling like he’s enjoying seeing Yakumo as uncomfortable as he is. You’re not going to get started on that. 

Because you don’t have a therapy room in your house, you take Yakumo back to the guest room that’s serving as his. He follows you like a tense, overlarge shadow, silent enough that you know his head is going bad places. You remember last time, when he thought he was with the _ CCG.  _ You know better than to ask questions that prying, but a large part of you is left wondering just what’s happened to him-- whatever horrors those may be. 

Without having to be asked, Yakumo takes off the oversized hoodie and lays down on the bed, back to you. He’s visibly tense. Even though a ghoul’s natural weapon comes from their back, not being able to see someone that his head is registering as a threat has to be uncomfortable. 

“We’ll go easy this time,” you tell him softly. You wouldn’t think that someone this big, this strong, this  _ hardened  _ would need comfort, but Yakumo’s shoulders hunch up a bit at words he’s clearly not used to hearing.

Since his kagune isn’t out yet, you’re faced with the broad, well-muscled expanse of Yakumo’s back. He’s a Rinkaku. It’s the slight dip of his lower back that’s sensitive. Trying not to hesitate, you place your hands at the base of his spine and rub up, long and slow. Every muscle you can feel is so hard and tense that it might as well be made of metal. There are more knots than you can count. You could probably spend a solid hour just working on  _ this,  _ the mess that it is, without ever getting to his kagune. 

To start, you follow that path a few times; just long, even strokes of pressure along tense muscle. Every time you pass over his lower back, something twitches under Yakumo’s skin. His body probably remembers what happened last time... and likes it  _ regardless  _ of his feelings. 

The massage does relax him a bit, though. Yakumo’s breathing slowly evens out. It has to feel good. He’s the kind of person who’s never known comfort in his life, that much is apparent. Even something as simple as having the old, awful knots worked out of his back is probably monumental. You go slow, stay gentle, and try your best not to spook him. It’s a weird concept with a ghoul that you know has killed more people than you could conceptualize, but it’s accurate. He’d be easy to scare like this. 

And then, you start to focus more on his lower back. That’s where the tension and knotting are the worst, all thanks to the organ underneath his skin. His kagune was big, heavy. It makes sense that it would strain his body. He’s probably used it a lot in his lifetime-- in recent history, and that means that his body has been taxed because of it for all that time. 

When you move to press deliberately, directly at his kakuhou, Yakumo sucks in a sharp breath. That’s sensitive. You massage the area around it, feeling his skin twitch and shudder. The pressure is teasing at what’s underneath, coaxing it, encouraging the kagune to escape from his back and out into the open. You wish that you could have spent longer just getting him relaxed, but this is meant to be a quick, easy session. 

More pressure, more coaxing. Yakumo slowly progresses from twitching to what’s close to shudders. His breathing has picked up too. There’s no way he knows how to process this. That much is clear. 

“You’re fine,” you say on impulse. “This won’t hurt you. I know it feels weird, but it’ll be better soon.  _ I  _ won’t hurt you.”

You don’t know why you stress that last part, but from the hitch in Yakumo’s breath, it seems to have hit him hard. You remember that this is a ghoul who thought he was about to be dragged  _ back  _ to the CCG. What he’s been through is likely torture beyond your imagining. Having a human at his back, touching the places that could hurt him worse than anything...

His kagune begins to emerge. Slowly, the first tendrils of blood-red cells begin to slip out from his opening, loosening kakuhou. Yakumo shudders at the feeling. You can’t see his face, and you don’t really want to. 

All it takes is a little bit more rubbing at the edges of his kakuhou. All at once, his kagune  _ bursts  _ out in a rush. This thing is obviously used to emerging quickly and easily, ready for a fight. It didn’t take much for it to come out, and even now, the tentacles are waving in the air anxiously. It feels like his body is confused by not having something waiting to  _ fight.  _

You run a hand along one of the tentacles. The scaled surface, hardened and sharp in anticipation, presses up into your hand. 

“Quit wasting time,” Yakumo mutters when you allow that moment to drag on. “I want this to be over with.” He tries to sound angry, but all that you really hear out of it is defensive nervousness with no outlet. 

In response, you stroke over the scales tenderly, allowing your fingertips to slip beneath a couple of them. Just that simple touch cuts off Yakumo’s voice with a noise that sounds like choking. Returning to the same effective pattern as last time, you start from somewhere near the base and work in a path of the larger scales. Just stroking the undersides has Yakumo biting down on noises that suddenly won’t stop. His kagune twitches and leans,  _ leans  _ into your hand as it relaxes, obviously seeking more contact. 

He remembers last time. Whether the actual memories are clear in his head or not, his body remembers that not long ago, you worked him down to what was probably the most relaxed and  _ good  _ he’d felt in his life. As you get closer and closer to the tips, Yakumo’s shuddering becomes violent. 

Eventually, you start to smell blood. You realize that he’s biting down on his own arm, both crossed under his head, to try to stifle the sounds. 

“Don’t do that.”

You run the fingers of one hand daringly along the nape of his neck, barely brushing through the soft, bleached hairs at the back of his neck. Yakumo’s breath catches in a way that’s visibly painful. 

“You’re safe,” you tell him. “I won’t judge you for anything. It’s okay for this to feel good. Please, try to let yourself relax. I won’t betray whatever trust you place in me.” Punctuating your words with a long, finger-trailing stroke near the sensitive base of his kagune, you watch him shiver. Yakumo doesn’t answer. His shoulders tense and hunch in, though. You dig in near the base again. You find the tender places near the emerging scales. “Yakumo, please trust me. It won’t be used against you, I promise.”

“D-Don’t call me that--” he bites back in an unsteady tone of voice. “It’s  _ Yamori.  _ I-I’m not-- n-not Yakumo, not now.” Immediate proof that this is getting to him. That’s a vulnerable admission, and it carries a lot of weight. You’re scrambling up the parts of him that know how to hold back. 

“I don’t know what happened, but... you can be Yakumo here. You can be safe. You’re strong, I know you are, but this is what I’m here for.” It’s crossing lines, you know it is. Personal attachment,  _ sympathy  _ is creeping into your voice. You don’t know why, but you feel a powerful, aching need to see him relax. To push just enough to see the vulnerable parts of him. “You’ve been hurt, haven’t you? Bad things have happened. You’ve done them too. I don’t care. You’re still a  _ person  _ to me.”

There’s a long pause in which Yakumo’s breath stops. Then, a huge heaving sigh and a notable change in the way his body’s shaking. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening, but when it clicks--

He’s crying. 

Instead of anything intense, you just pet his kagune with a steadying touch. How long has it been since anyone told him that his life matters? How long has it been since his pain was recognized? You know,  _ know  _ that something very bad happened between Ken and this man. You almost don’t dare to think what. Yakumo most likely hurt him, or at least played a part in it. Watching him break down leaves your heart conflicted. 

But you’re here to help, aren’t you? Regardless of your doubts, it’s your job to reach out. What you’re doing is using Yakumo’s own body against him. He’s violent, he’s dangerous, and he’s the exact kind of ghoul that the world thinks should be put down. Ken’s behavior made that part very clear. You’re doing something almost  _ violating,  _ but it needs to be done. 

Watching the way his shoulders heave as he sobs, you can guess that this is probably torture for him it’s hard to think of anything save for the fact that this is a  _ person  _ who needs comfort so badly you can see it. 

With both hands, you rub at the tense places near the root of where the kagune emerges from him. Yakumo whimpers when your hands get close to his kakuhou. It sounds like he’d rather die than let you hear the sound. You have to bite your lip at the sheer vulnerability of it. 

And you start to ease back. This is enough. He’s already crying. There’s no need to push any further this time, not right now. 

Slowly, you soften your touches and leave greater intervals between them. Yakumo isn’t exactly relaxed, but he’s cracked open in a way that means someone will have to put the pieces back together. This is one of those moments where you should  _ never  _ leave a ghoul alone. Protocol would be to stay in the room and talk him down. You have another idea. 

One that might not be professional, but is probably needed. 

When you’ve lessened your touches enough that you deem it safe to pull away, you move to sit on the bed beside where Yakumo’s head is still buried in his arms. The mess of his pale hair is all you can see, but he’s still shaking with what you know are sobs. He looks like he’s in pain. 

Daringly, you stroke the back of his head. Yakumo tenses even more at that touch, but can’t keep it up for long. When you start combing your fingers through his hair, he winds up all but leaning into it. You run your hand through his hair and down the back of his neck, tracing a slow path down the first few inches of his spine. And repeat. Yakumo doesn’t try to stop you. He doesn’t voice any form of protest. He just  _ shakes.  _

“I mean it. You’re a person too. You’re allowed to be safe.” His kagune is still out, waving almost nervously in the air. One tentacle slowly reaches forward, toward you... and settles on your thigh. Instinctive. 

You stay like that for a while, just stroking Yakumo’s hair while that point of contact exists between you. Eventually, his frantic, shuddering breaths slow down, and the heave of his ribcage starts to ease. He still doesn’t try to push you away. You’d expect he wants to, and yet--

“Why are you doing this...?” his low, tear-choked voice asks eventually. He still doesn’t lift his head or try to face you. 

“Because you need help too.”

“If you knew... You’re ignorant. You don’t know what I’ve done. You’re my  _ food...  _ There’s no reason why a human should see any worth in a ghoul.”

“Regardless of what you’ve done, you shouldn’t be--”

“Tell me,” Yakumo says in a hollow tone, “what kind of face does a man make when he’s begging for death? What do screams of agony sound like?” The implications are clear. You know nothing. You’re both an innocent in his world and someone who  _ can’t  _ understand. You haven’t lived it. 

“...I don’t know. You’ve been through things that I can’t even imagine. I wish it could have been different. I’m a sensitive, gullible, ignorant human. When I see someone who’s in pain, no matter who they are, I hurt for them. Whether you’re a ghoul or not, you don’t deserve to suffer. The world has been cruel to you, and I know that you’ve been cruel right back.” You hope you’re saying the right things. It’s easy to talk, but will it be enough? There’s so much that you aren’t able to comprehend. “But I’m still right here.”

Instead of answering, Yakumo slowly sits upright. Like this, you’re painfully aware of how massive he is. When he looks at you, though, it’s with red-rimmed eyes and an expression so defeated that it hurts to see. 

“Your kindness is going to get you killed,” is all he says. He closes his eyes. “Now, get out. I’m done with this.”

Not wanting to push too far, you obey. As you close the door behind you, the last thing you see is his broad shoulders hunching in as a man like him curls in on himself in the wake of an emotion you’ll never be able to comprehend. What he’s feeling right now is beyond human understanding. 

Even so, as you head back down to the living room, you feel like that was progress. He never made you stop. What you said brought him to  _ tears.  _ Yakumo clearly has had to toughen up in his lifetime; impenetrable walls that no one can get through. The thought of what he’s capable of makes you vaguely sick. And yet, you don’t regret leaving these first few cracks. 

Ken is waiting for you. 

. . . 

The next day, things change once again. Yakumo is hiding in the spare room like he doesn’t want anything to do with you-- presumably simmering in his own shame. You’ve  _ dared  _ to trust Ken to stay at your house with him while you spend a day back at your office. You don’t want Yakumo to be home alone, just in case something  _ were  _ to go wrong, so even if you weren’t exactly eager to leave Ken of all people alone with him, you trust that Yakumo will likely not even try to leave the bedroom while you’re gone. 

You spend your morning mostly taking care of paperwork that you’re behind on. It’s a pain, really. You don’t have any clients for now because of your much-needed hiatus, and that’s giving you guilt. Once Yakumo is stable and  _ safe,  _ you really need to get back to work properly. People can’t wait. 

And then, around noon, your front door opens.

“Pardon me,” a male voice calls out, “I hope we’re not intruding.”

The first person you see is an older man. He’s tall and built strong despite his age. His features are weathered and creased with old, deep lines of stress and sadness... but he has the kind of smile on his face that’s undoubtedly genuine. Even so, as soon as you make eye contact, an overwhelming feeling hits you that this person is  _ dangerous.  _

But just as your body tenses, someone else pushes past the man and charges at you.  _ Hinami  _ launches herself at your chest full-speed. 

“Hinami!” You’re almost knocked off of your feet, but you grab ahold of her and squeeze. “You’re here! Wait, who’s this? Is everything okay?”

“This is Mr. Yoshimura!” she chirps. “He’s the man who runs the ghoul cafe and the one who’s been looking after me while... while everything happened. You know what I mean.” Even though she starts out sounding happy, her voice trails off to something quiet and scared by the end.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

So this man is a ghoul. Clearly a powerful one, at that. But going solely from what Ken, Touka, and Hinami have told you, he’s one that can be truly trusted. He’s someone that they’ve all relied on many times. 

“You as well.” He nods. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the human who I’ve been hearing so much about. You’re more or less what I was expecting.” His voice is soft and polite, with a note of subtle humor that doesn’t go unmissed. Unlike any ghoul you’ve met before, he doesn’t seem to doubt you at all. Even his  _ posture  _ is as relaxed as a man can be. 

“I was just making some coffee. Could I offer you a cup?” you ask as Mr. Yoshimura takes the nearest seat. Meanwhile, Hinami is rocking on her heels, seemingly wanting to either cling to you or start talking and not stop. 

“Yes, please,” Yoshimura says.

“Um...” Hinami cuts in, then. “Onee-chan... you know what happened to Onii-chan, right...?” The implication is clear. She’s talking about Ken. 

“Ah...” That’s a hard question. You don’t exactly  _ know  _ either, but you have guesses, and those guesses aren’t the kinds of things you want Hinami to be thinking about. “I kind of do. Ken came to see me when he got back from... wherever he was. He hasn’t told me much yet about what happened there, but he’s okay. He’s safe. And he’s not going anywhere again.”

Hinami seems to be satisfied with that much. There’s still a lingering sadness in her eyes, but she doesn’t press any further. Instead, she trails closely behind you as you pour a cup of coffee for Mr. Yoshimura and place it on the table in front of him. For a moment, he just looks at it. 

“Do you always have coffee brewing here, or did I just have good timing?” he asks you, still looking at the cup instead of you. 

“I try to always have some going. If they haven’t had the injection yet, it’s about all I can offer my guests, so I want to have it available. It makes things feel a little more welcoming, I think.”

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking at you. 

As Mr. Yoshimura takes his first drink, Hinami approaches you again. “Onee-chan,” she says, “can I have the injection again, please? I miss being able to eat human food, and I bet that Mr. Yoshimura wants to see how it works! He said he wanted to learn about you, so is it okay?”

With a nod from Mr. Yoshimura, you happily agree. 

From there, it’s routine. You take Hinami and Mr. Yoshimura back to one of the rooms, prep an injection under his careful watch, and administer it to Hinami as gently as ever. Even when the needle pierces her skin, Hinami doesn’t flinch. Instead, she smiles contentedly and chatters happily about how happy she is to be able to have cake again, and other things. 

All the while, you don’t miss the way that Mr. Yoshimura’s eyes are on you. He’s watching you. Not in a judging or displeased way, but just... watching. Observing you to see what you do. His expression is as serene as ever, and even though his even, peaceful aura never changes, you can’t help but get the feeling that he’s satisfied with what he sees. You don’t know what he’s watching for, but you hope that you’ll fulfill his expectations. 

“Now, it’ll start working in about an hour, okay? Don’t try to eat anything until then.” You ruffle Hinami’s hair and she leans into the touch with a happy hum. “But then, you can have anything for a whole week.”

“Hinami,” Mr. Yoshimura says, “could you please go out to the front room for a bit? I need to speak to this person alone for a bit. I’ll be right out, so wait patiently, alright? We’ll need to go home after that. Before everyone gets worried.” Hinami falters, but soon relaxes under his smile. 

“Alright! I’ll wait for you.”

Hinami leaves, waving at you as she closes the door behind herself. You’re left alone in a small, enclosed room with who you can easily guess is a very dangerous ghoul. You can’t help but be sort of nervous. 

But you push those feelings aside and sit down as well, facing Mr. Yoshimura openly. He’s a person too. The only impression you’ve gotten from him so far is that he’s  _ peaceful,  _ and there’s no way you’re going to make a judgment of him based solely on the fact that he’s strong. 

“What can I do for you?”

“Well... I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions. About your practice and about yourself. Nothing too serious, I promise you. To start... what are you trying to accomplish? And what motivates you?”

“I want to help people. That’s all.”

“And ghouls are people to you?”

“Of course. I don’t see how they couldn’t be. I know that humans have done bad things to all of you, but I don’t see it that way. Whether you’re human or not, you’re  _ people,  _ and that means that you have as much right to live peacefully as any of us do.” You think of all of the ghouls for whom safety is a foreign, dangerous concept. “I think that we all can exist at the same time. The people here, they don’t  _ try.  _ They invest in ways to kill you, not help. It’s easy to help when we actually try to, not just blindly hate.”

“You’ve helped a lot of ghouls here, haven’t you? At my cafe, I’ve had many customers who have spoken of you and your work. It’s a relief to see them at peace, not having to hunt or worry about food.” Mr. Yoshimura smiles through it, but his words are vaguely sad. Thinking about how  _ hunting  _ works for the ghouls here quickly puts that into perspective. 

“I have. One of the biggest barriers between ghouls and humans is that you have to eat us. If that changes, so can everything else. When ghouls have other options... where I’m from, we see that no one gets hurt anymore. Very few ghouls want to hurt people, just like very few humans do. It’s when there’s hatred that that changes.” You’ve seen it. Before you came to Japan, you’ve  _ seen  _ how easy it can be for there to be peace.

“You’re entering a very dangerous world, you know. There is no peace here. If you follow your current path, you won’t escape unharmed. I have no doubts that harm will come to you-- be it from one side or the other.”

“I know. I understood that when I came here. I want to do what’s right, not have it easy and stay safe. None of you have ever had that option, so why should I? I’m involved now, so I can’t back out. I don’t want to.” Getting hurt is something you’ve thought about before. Yakumo being dragged to your doorstep really put that part into perspective. 

Mr. Yoshimura is quiet for a moment. He looks at you with searching eyes, as if trying to see inside your soul and find something unknown. 

“I had a wife,” he says suddenly. “Her name was Ukina. She was a beautiful woman with a kind soul. She accepted everything. Even knowing I was a ghoul, she chose to have a child with me.”  _ That  _ gives you pause. Human and ghoul hybrids aren’t supposed to be possible. The other thing that’s making your stomach sink is the way he’s talking in the past tense. 

“...did something happen to her?” you ask, even though you already know the answer. Even though you know it’ll break your heart to hear it. 

“I killed her. I could say that I didn’t have a choice, but would that be true? Ghouls and humans... we both live for ourselves. Could I say that I was protecting her by doing so? Or was it selfish actions in the end?” The way that Mr. Yoshimura speaks sends chills through you. He’s so serene, but there’s so much pain just under the surface of his words. “My child,” he says, “I haven’t seen since about that time. I sent her away so she could live, even if it would be without her father. That as well... was selfish.”

You can’t say anything. There are no words that could be a proper response. What Mr. Yoshimura is saying is almost too terrible to be real, but at the same time, it’s so much perspective on how ghouls here survive. 

“My cafe is named Anteiku,” he continues, “and you’re free to drop by if you wish. When I encounter anyone who could benefit from your services, I’ll be sending them your way. Trust is a dangerous thing in our world, but I’ll be putting my faith in you for now. Please, don’t let me down.”

Mr. Yoshimura bows his head to you. You feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. You probably are. This is the kind of situation that is so, so far beyond what you can do anything to help.  _ Anything  _ to mend. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask almost hesitantly. “To thank you for trusting me with this... with everything.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. Don’t think of repaying me. I’d be happy to try a dose of your injection, though. It would be nice to see what the world is like from a slightly more human point of view.” Mr. Yoshimura smiles with so much melancholy that it hurts to see. There’s everything you wish you could do, and nothing that you’re capable of for someone like him. 

So you ready a syringe. Mr. Yoshimura rolls up his sleeve and lets you take his hand. He stares at the needle as it goes under his skin and doesn’t flinch even a little bit. He just keeps smiling at the sight. 

“There are people,” he says as you’re removing the needle from his skin, “who will try to stop you. Be careful. If you hear the name ‘V’, don’t get involved. Some things in our world are beyond what you’re capable of... and you will do all of us more good alive than killed for your cause.”

You’re about to attempt to answer when there’s a light knock on the door. At first, you assume it’s Hinami checking on you, but--

“May I come in?” Ken’s voice asks. Mr. Yoshimura nods at you. 

“Yep, go ahead!”

Ken enters the room with his still-unfamiliar white hair and a nervous smile. When he sees Mr. Yoshimura, something in his eyes lights up. There’s trust there, that much is obvious, and that’s also a very good sign. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” he says somewhat nervously. “I was dropping by on my own since our...  _ guest,”  _ he says tensely, hesitantly, “is asleep for now, but Hinami told me that you were here too, Mr. Yoshimura. Honestly, I was a little surprised... but you did say not too long ago that you wanted to see what was going on here. What do you think?”

“I think that your friend is a very kind person,” Mr. Yoshimura responds in that same serene, yet melancholy tone, “and that you’re very lucky to know them. However... I did have another question.”

“Yes, what is it?” you ask. 

“I’ll have to be on my way shortly, I will say, but I do remember hearing about the ‘kagune therapy’ that you practice. Is that correct?”

“That’s right! What do you want to know about it?”

“Well, I’ve picked up the vague idea from those I’ve spoken with, but if you could, I’d like to see it in use. Not on myself, for a variety of reasons, but since Kaneki took this moment to step in...” The implications are clear.

You glance over at Ken to see what his reaction is. He’s flushed a bit, looking rather nervous, but doesn’t seem upset. Considering what the kagune therapy does to ghouls-- as well as the fact that it’s been quite a while since you handled his--, you can see why he’d be sort of hesitant. Even so, you haven’t had a chance to do much for Ken since he got back from... from wherever he was. You like the idea of being close to him. 

“Would you be okay with that?” you ask him. 

“Y-Yeah...” Ken mumbles... then cracks a knuckle on one hand. That’s a new habit. For some reason, it makes you feel oddly concerned.

“Okay, thank you. It’ll be good to show Mr. Yoshimura how it works.”

Ken gets his shirt off and settles on the table. He’s... a lot more muscular than last time, by a lot. It  _ has  _ been quite a while since you were close to him like this, but the thought of the relatively scrawny Ken that you remember looking like this is sort of unnerving. He really is changing. 

When you first start to work on Ken’s back, he’s also a  _ lot  _ tenser than you remember. Before, he had just the knots and stress you’d expect from someone in his troubled situation. Now, there’s almost as much tension as there was on Yakumo. Even though Ken is quite a bit smaller, his muscles are as hard as metal, rolling unhappily under the pressure you apply. 

Considering that this is a demonstration, you don’t have much time to draw it out. Vowing that you’ll deal with the knotted mess that is Ken’s back when you get a chance to later, you move on to put the lightest pressure against the area near his kakuhou. Just trailing your fingers over that places makes Ken’s body tense up. He sucks in a sharp breath. Which... that’s not what you were expecting. Ken trusts you. It doesn’t make sense that the boy who’s been so close to you would be so scared of a little bit of touch. 

Even stranger, considering that you’ve done this to him before. 

But you keep working. Slowly, easily, Ken’s kakuhou begins to loosen up. Ken himself is still as tense as ever, though, even clenching one hand into a fist against the table. You don’t want to distract yourself by seeing Mr. Yoshimura’s reaction, but you can feel his gaze on what you’re doing. 

“Easy, you’re okay.” Because Ken is a friend, you can cross that line a little bit. “You remember this, right? It’ll be just like last time.”

The soothing words seem to do some good. Ken shudders all over, but his shoulders do fall down a bit from their uncomfortable-looking hunch. A direct press to the skin on the verge of his Kakuhou has him digging his nails into the table. You can see the tips of his kagune starting to emerge, working their way out of the confines of his body and into the open air. 

“The initial part is just to get the muscles loosened up,” you explain to Mr. Yoshimura. “It’s pretty much the same as a massage for humans. The next step is to relax the area around the kakuhou so that the kagune can emerge without pain. It can feel sort of unusual, though, and there’s a tendency for it to come rushing out suddenly because of the contact. Most ghouls aren’t used to it, and it can be pretty intense. Now, like this...”

A little more pressure, and Ken’s kagune does about what you described. However, instead of a sudden rush, the four tentacles emerge in a slow, almost nervous manner, like Ken is somehow holding back. 

Like with last time, you pick one of the tentacles and start to massage it from the base up. The surface is still soft, showing that Ken doesn’t feel ready to have to defend himself, but something about the way it’s moving is showing a little too much hesitance. There’s something he’s not telling you.

“You’ve probably already heard this,” you comment, “but a large reason behind this is that it reduces aggression in ghouls. Because of the brain chemicals that are released under this kind of touch, the therapy induces feelings of relaxation, trust, and calmness. It’s completely painless, and it leaves lingering effects for up to a few days-- lasting longer depending on how tense or aggressive the ghoul was, in the first place. It’s... really just a lot of gentle handling. Nothing too special.” There’s a whisper of a smile on your face as you explain. You want to give all of that to Ken. 

“I see,” Mr. Yoshimura says. “It does look very pleasant. I can’t sense a bit of pain in Kaneki, so it’s easy to believe that you’re telling the truth.” He sounds like he’s smiling fondly as well. 

From there, the room falls into silence. You slowly massage all of the tense spots out of Ken’s kagune with gentle touches and sure hands. Ken winds up shaking. You... don’t like the sight of that. His breathing is coming much too short. Even though his kagune is leaning into your touch with the same desperate enthusiasm as last time, you can’t help but feel like something is wrong. He trusts you, clearly, but there’s something  _ more.  _

And you feel like it has to do with the time he was gone. When Ken said that he’d changed... you’re starting to see why. 

When you’re halfway done with the third kagune tentacle, rushing a bit because you don’t want to keep Hinami and Mr. Yoshimura waiting for too long, a familiar sound starts to emerge. A low, tense, barely-there purr. It’s the sound of a ghoul who  _ wants  _ to relax more than anything, but can’t quite make it to the point where that sound can escape without hesitation.

It’s an impossibly fragile, painful noise, and Ken seems to be aware of it from the way his shoulders tense up all over again. 

“Pardon me,” Mr. Yoshimura cuts in. “I think I should be excusing myself now. Hinami has been waiting patiently, and we do need to get back to the cafe.” It’s a valid reason, but you also understand that he’s trying to spare Ken the embarrassment of being seen in such a state. 

“Alright. Please feel free to drop by any time. The injection will wear off in about a week, so pay attention to when human food starts tasting off again. Thank you so much for visiting.” You take a moment to glance over your shoulder at Mr. Yoshimura and nod your head in farewell. He’s looking at both you and Ken with an expression of fondness and... hope, maybe. 

Yeah, hope. 

As soon as Mr. Yoshimura shuts the door behind him, Ken sort of collapses. His purr gets louder and takes on a near-frantic tone. You realize that he’s digging his fingers into the table once again. 

“Are you okay?” You’re starting to get concerned. For Ken of all people to be so tense and upset when you’re the one handling him is--

“F-Fine...” he stutters. “It’s j-just... a lot. It’s not like the last t-time. It feels  _ different. _ ” His sentence ends on a sharp, hiccuping inhalation when your hands hit somewhere sensitive. “Ah... I d-don’t-- please, don’t stop.”

His purr rattles through his chest. His kagune, both miserably and affectionately, tries to wind itself around your hand and hold on tightly. You have to detangle it three times, and even then, it won’t stop trying to cling. You swallow hard. There’s something way too wrong about all of this. 

“I won’t. I’ll finish, don’t worry.” You’re on the fourth and final tentacle by now. It won’t be long. “But... Ken, are you really okay? You’re so tense, and you sound like you’re scared of me...” You trail off hesitantly. You know that Ken doesn’t want to talk about it, that he doesn’t want you to see him differently, but like this? How can you not? Everything you do is seemingly breaking him into little pieces inside, but still, he won’t stop  _ purring.  _

It’s the most disturbing mix of trust and fear you think you’ve ever seen. At the same time he wants your touch more than anything, his body itself is rebelling at the contact. All you can read from this is trauma. 

Once again, Ken assures you that he’s fine. 

You finish the therapy properly. Despite your doubts, you won’t let Ken crash. You work him through the intensity of it until he’s shaking even more, purr rattling through his chest in an impossibly vulnerable gesture. With his kagune still out in the air, you ease off until all you’re doing is rubbing his back with long, slow, calming strokes-- just skin against skin. 

By the time it’s over, you have no doubt that Ken is crying. His shoulders are trembling in a way that says nothing else. 

“All done.”

It takes Ken a moment to snap back to reality. And when he does, it feels like a sudden crash. He rolls over onto his side, and yep, there are tear-tracks all over his cheeks. “I-It’s over...?”

“Yeah, it is. But I can do it again whenever you want me to. It doesn’t hurt you at all, and it’s no trouble for me. I think... I think that maybe the relaxation might do you some good.” You don’t want to press too far, but Ken is shaking so badly that it’s starting to make you nervous. “For now, though, do you want me to sit with you for a bit? Until you calm down?”

Ken nods. You sit down on the table next to him, and two of his kagune tentacles immediately start trying to grab onto you again. 

You sit like that for a few minutes, most of which you spend trying to find the right words. Ken is turning out to be a lot more  _ not okay  _ than you had initially assumed, and that’s worrying you. You want to ask so many things, but you know that Ken will shy away from answering them.

“You’ll be staying with me again tonight, right?” you ask when he seems a little more calm. 

“Yeah, I will... Don’t want to leave you alone with  _ that, _ ” he mutters. Then, “I’ll protect you. Always. You... you won’t get hurt.” The unspoken line of  _ like I did  _ hangs in the air like a noose. 


End file.
